New Home Reflection

By: Ashley Whisonant

Our family has recently celebrated one year in our Lexington home. We have amazing neighbors, a quiet street to play on, neighborhood friends, and tons of space. I have truly enjoyed our family spot for the past year. We went from a 1,300 square foot home to 2,500 square feet. So much more space! I have found the following things with moving to a large family zone though…

#1 Cleaning DOUBLES

So much cleaning! I could clean every day and still feel like something is missing. I don’t want to even think about the total hours this year spent cleaning

#2 Decorating is expensive!

Our old house had less wall space and less rooms. It was not cheap to make this new house feel comfy and warm.

#3 Missing my little guys

I used to hear the boys sleep at night from the living room. Now they are all the way upstairs and we sleep downstairs. I miss the comfort of hearing them shifting all night. I don’t know if my husband would say the same!

#4 Heating and cooling costs spike

More space means more area to heat and cool. Our energy bills have seen a big spike! We were expecting this, but it is still not easy to write that check each month!

The million dollar question is, would we move again if we were back in this position? Matt and I have talked about this over the past few days. We want to travel and spend more quality time with the kids. A smaller house just might be in our future sooner rather than later!

To Move or Not to Move

By: Azure Stilwell

The last few weeks I have been struggling with my depression. I am still doing the ECT treatments but my energy level has been zapped. Since my oldest left for college I have felt lost here in Columbia. I feel like I want to move back to Augusta. When I lived in Augusta before, I had a great psychologist. My parents also live there so I had family support that I don’t have here in Columbia. The problem is, my husband hasn’t gotten any good job leads and we cannot move without a job in place.

I wonder if my reasons for wanting to move back to Augusta are right for my family. We have a good life here but it just feels incomplete. I am very family oriented and not having anyone here is hard on me. It was easier when my oldest was in high school because we wouldn’t move him away from his friends, but now that he’s gone Columbia feels so lonely. My youngest is still in elementary school so we don’t have the same reasons holding us here that we did with my oldest. I feel like it would be good for all of us to get a new start but I don’t know if that’s selfish thinking. We have a lovely home, my son is in a good school system, and we all have friends here that we would miss. Is it fair to ask them to give these things up so I can be near my parents?

I am not in a good place right now so maybe a move would help me find myself again. Wouldn’t it be better to move and be me again than to stay and be a shell of a person? The struggle is real and I pray every night that God will give us the answer but so far that has not opened a job in Augusta. I just don’t know why I feel so strongly that we are meant to move if we really aren’t? I’m so desperate to feel whole again I would do just about anything at this point if I thought it would help.

Saying Good-Bye

By: Crissie Kirby

As you have no doubt come to realize over the last few years, I am a deeply sentimental person. As such, good-byes do not come easily for me. As an adult, I have only had 4 jobs since completing college and, even for the ones from which I was happily leaving, I have shed some tears. I develop strong attachments and bonds to people, places, and movingthings. Does this make me materialistic? I don’t think it does. Rather, I tend to attach memories to items that probably aren’t as important as they should be. As several of my Every Woman Blog counterparts did, I, too, have recently had to say a fond farewell to a home in which I have developed many memories.

I still remember the feeling as I stood on the porch, a 22-year-old newlywed, moving in to the home I would occupy for the next 14 ½ years. Home is where the heart is and my heart developed a very strong attachment to that little house in Leesville. I’ve spent the majority of my adult life in that little tan house. Both of my boys came home from the hospital to it as well. It is the only home they have ever known.

The little house on Long Terrace has seen much over nearly fifteen years; many happy memories and some that need not be remembered. She bears the scars of a young family with two growing little boys and a small circus of cats, dogs, and even a couple of hamsters. Her once-white walls are now all painted and most of her carpet was replaced in favor of more durable flooring. I like to think that she has a little more character than the day we moved in.

As time and circumstances have a way of dictating the certainty of change, an opportunity to start anew presented itself in the late spring of 2015, and it was one that I could not really pass up. After nearly forty years and much hard work, my parents decided that they were ready for a change and purchased a new home not far from my childhood home. As my childhood home sits on “family land,” my parents offered the boys and me the chance to make the move to their old house.

I cannot really say that I jumped on the chance. I mulled it over. I shed some tears. In the end, I opted to take the chance and to begin the moving process. Although my heart hurt to begin saying good-bye to my adult home, there was something comforting about “going home”. In truth, I had spent 22 years of my life there, but my boys had not. As they definitely have some of their mama’s genes, the move was not totally easy, emotionally, for them either. And for someone who has a slight tendency to be a hoarder, moving has not been a physical or logistical piece of cake either. But, for the most part, it is finally over and I have said my good-byes as I have steam cleaned the remaining carpet and swept her floors. And, yes, I have shed a few more tears.

But, over the last few months, we have begun to develop our own attachment to the house in the country; the house to which I was brought home from the hospital as a newborn. In the end, I suppose, we aren’t really saying good-bye, so much as we are saying “Welcome Home.”